


can the dead still have fire

by DittyWrites



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Excessive Swearing, Fun, Gen, Guilt, Insults, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Snark, Swearing, Threats, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Scoffing, Laura looked disgusted for a moment. “You think I want to have sex with you, ginger minge?”“I'm a fucking catch, dead wife. I was a king once.”“And now look at you,” she countered, “stuck in a filthy-as-shit cab with a reanimated dead woman and a guy who got some good dick and has abandoned his entire life to hunt down his last one night stand.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am just trying to get a feel for the characters with this so feedback is incredibly appreciated xx

Given her unexpected and violent introduction to the world of the gods which ran parallel to her own, it came as no surprise that Laura was the first to break the hours-long silence which had dragged on for far too long.

Salim/Not-Salim was having a nap in the back and the guy was too nice for her to want to disturb him. So she had settled on grilling the other occupant of the car.

“You're a leprechaun, right?” She asked the relaxed figure who sat to her right.

Cracking an irritated eye open, Sweeney gave her a quick glare.

“And you're a fucking genius, dead wife. How many times do you have to be told something before it enters that thick skull?”

The cracking of her knuckles in his direction was a vague threat and he sighed as she simply continued her line of questioning.

“Have you met any of the Greek gods? Like Zeus? Hades? They were the only gods I ever found kind of interesting as a kid.”

Inhaling deeply, Sweeney scrunched his nose as the mixed stench of the cab and decay invaded his senses and he rolled his window down a few inches as he answered the current bane of his existence.

“Met Dionysus in a bar in New York once.” He confessed. “I didn't know who he was at first and that was a fucking experience and a half. Between the drinking and the sex I thought he was trying to have the life sucked out of me via my prick. I lost two weeks of my life to his manic debauchery and that's quite a feat for an Irishman.”

“So a gay leprechaun and a Greek god walk into a bar-”

“Gay?” Giving her a sideways glance, Sweeney tipped his cap up to sit high on his forehead so he could see her properly. “Listen to me, you live as long as I have and you learn that there's not much difference between men and women, lass, and when gods are involved you find that shit gets very varied, very fast. If he's in this world for long enough, your man will find out the same thing so you might find yourself with some interesting competition from others.”

Pausing to let that sink in, he added on.

“At this point I think i've fucked pretty much everything with a pulse,” he squinted his eyes towards her, “which puts you shit outta luck, dead wife.”

Scoffing, Laura looked disgusted for a moment. “You think I want to have sex with you, ginger minge?”

“I'm a fucking catch, dead wife. I was a king once.”

“And now look at you,” she countered, “stuck in a filthy-as-shit cab with a reanimated dead woman and a guy who got some good dick and has abandoned his entire life to hunt down his last one night stand.”

“Circumstances change.” Sniffing at the accuracy of her statement, he went on the defensive. “Don't get all pissy at me just because I said I wouldn't stick it in ya, dead wife.”

Honestly, being stuck in such close quarters with this woman, the woman he had killed on the instruction of Wednesday, was a special hell in itself and he wondered what sin had forced it upon him.

He could feel his coin within her. It called to him constantly, a sweet whisper on the winds which was too subtle to be understood but too loud to be ignored. It wanted to return to him as much as he wanted it back.

But the woman was its new master until she gave it up.

Laura Moon.

He had killed her.

She was by no means an innocent, her nature was manipulative and unashamedly adulterous, but she had committed no personal slight against him. He had no quarrel with her and yet he had stolen her life and every time his eyes landed on her he experienced a wash of guilt which was impossible to deny.

He was truly fucked.

Trapped between what he wanted to do and what he knew needed to be done.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“So you don't think i'm attractive?”

“Never said that,” he corrected her before adding, “because you definitely have a good arse on you and the tits would be nice too if they weren't all torn up and fleshy. So, dead wife, there ain't nothing wrong with your package. Aside from the decay.”

Her face showed no embarrassment or irritation at his assessment of her as she offered him a slight smirk.

“How sweet. So you did notice me.”

Annoyed, he decided to bring in the third member of their party.

Smacking his hand on the glass divide between the front and back of the cab, he grinned in satisfaction as both Laura and Salim/Not-Salim jumped at the loud noise.

As Salim/Not-Salim rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he engaged him.

“Now listen, i know you're more of a cock-loving lad but if you decided that you fancied a taste of the fish, do you think you would want a piece of the dead wife, cab driver?”

“Salim/Not-Salim,” Laura interjected, “you don't have to answer that. Ignore the idiot. He's just cranky because all his bad luck is going to hurt his balls again.”

Sighing at the bickering pair, Salim caught Lauras' eye in the mirror.

“If I were into the 'fish',” he answered slowly as his eyes drifted towards the redhead, “as he crudely put it, you would be a very decent catch for any man, Laura.”

“Aww! Thank you, Salim/Not-Salim. See?” She smiled widely at Sweeney to wind him up further.

“That fire of yours is going to get you into trouble, lass.” He murmured.

The smile dropped from her face in a flash and was replaced with an empty look which had an echo of sadness about it as she focused on the road with determination, avoiding the gaze of both men.

“I had fire,” a quiet admission, “but now I can't feel it anymore. Now all I can feel is the cold and I can't make it go away.”

Taking her eyes off the road, she locked eyes with Sweeney for a moment instead.

“Can the dead still have fire? Or is that lost to me like everything else?”

There it was.

The guilt.

Unable to hold her gaze, he shifted his face towards the ceiling as the guilt wrapped itself around his gut and squeezed him tight.

“You will get your fire back as soon as we get to my resurrection guy.” He reassured her, his voice exasperated. “And then I can get my coin and everyone is going to be fucking happy, yeah?”

“And I can have my Shadow back.”

That wasn't a question so he did not feel the need to respond.

“So what is this Mr Wednesday like?” Shifting gear, Laura changed the subject t lighten the mood again. “He as much of an asshole as you?”

Snorting softly, Sweeney rubbed his hand along his beard.

“If i'm an asshole then he's a straight-up cunt.” He paused to watch Lauras' eyes twitch in irritation as he used the word she hated so much. “Wednesday would sell his own mother if he thought it would benefit him somehow.”

“That bad huh?” She answered, sarcasm apparent.

Fingers still entwined in his beard, Sweeney gave no indication he had heard her as his expression hardened.

“Wednesday could roll up to a battlefield with a legion of devoted allies to face off against a legion of enemies who wanted to tear off his hide,” he muttered quietly, “and after all the blood and the shit and the chaos, when the battle was over and the final blade was sheathed, Wednesday would be the only one left standing. Alone and reeking of death itself.”

Clearing his throat as he realised that he may have said too much, Sweeney darted his eyes towards Laura and clarified.

“He cannot be trusted, none of them can, but him more than most.”

“And what does he want with Shadow?”

Giving a bored shrug, he avoided the truth.

“Maybe he wants a piece of him. Have you seen your man? Those dark eyes could tempt Bran himself.”

Designed to get a reaction, he watched as Laura tapped her palms on the wheel and raised her eyebrow at him.

“Do you want to fuck my husband, ginger minge?”

Drawing down further in his seat in a childish sulk as she mentioned her husband, he couldn't hold his tongue.

“The damned prick stole my lucky coin so he's already totally fucked me. Fucked me right over.” He grumbled. “Maybe you wanna have a word in his ear about that cause i'm liable to punch his fucking teeth in after all the shit i've went through because of him.”

Unable to hold her laugh, Laura chuckled as she made a sharp right turn down an empty crossroads.

“You mean me?”

“Yeah, I mean you. Fucking nuisance.”

“Why don't you punch my teeth in?” She teased, knowing that he was powerless against her new strength.

Flipping her off, he pulled his cap over his eyes again in an attempt to block her out and hopefully get some sleep.

“I don't make a habit of hitting women, dead wife. It ain't right.”

He couldn't see her expression but he heard the intake of sharp breath as she contested his words.

“You tried to drown me you fucking delusional, whacked-out, wannabe cereal mascot?!”

Smirking at the insult, he held up a patronising finger towards her.

“Still never hit ya though.”

 


	2. Post-Reveal

The wheels of the car dragged across the road with difficulty, kicking up small clouds of dust as they crawled along the dry road. The evening light was fading and Laura found herself having to switch on the headlights to prevent the van from careering off the set path as the dark shape of the cabin she had been travelling to became visible.

A lake, the shape and depth of which was lost to the darkness, also came into view and the stillness of it was at ends with the turmoil which was currently twisting her guts as she cut the lights and prepared to leave the safety of the car.

She missed Salim/Not-Salim.

Despite everything, he was a calming presence.

“Well ain't this fucking romantic.”

Sighing, Laura turned to face the other occupant of the van who was now awake.

Mad Sweeney.

One week.

It had been a full week since her life had been turned on its head.

Again.

x-x-x-x-x

Never in her life had Laura experienced such a fit of sheer rage as the anger which overtook her as she heard Wednesday confess to having her killed. Even her anger at Mad Sweeney had not been as strong.

The confession to her hurled accusation from the balcony brought about a similar response in Shadow and Laura watched the red mist cloud his vision as his staunch air of nonchalance fell and he flew for his employer, prepared to physically beat him until he felt some form of satisfaction.

Or some form of revenge for what he had lost, she guessed.

Mad Sweeneys' strong hands soon came to grip Shadow, preventing him from reaching the old god, and he instead elected to howl in rage and scream torrid threats as he thrashed against the force restraining him and Laura watched as it took the comforting hands of Ostara on Shadows' face to force him to reach any kind of control. She held him in place as she gently shushed him back to rational thought.

Eventually Shadows' breathing evened out and he looked at Wednesday.

“Our deal is off. It's fucking off, you hear me!”

Twitching in irritation, Wednesday held out his hands defensively as he fought to spin an angle to his own ends.

“Look, I know you probably have a lot of questions, Shadow. And I can answer them, but only if you keep to your end of the dea-.”

As he twisted in Sweeneys' grasp, Laura felt a touch of satisfaction as Shadow snarled.

“I'm fucking pissed off! That's all I need to be to get out of this! Son of a bitch! You murdered my wife you fucking bastard!”

He stopped to look up at her, and Laura felt her blank expression and obvious signs of decay staring back at him.

“You killed my wife!”

“And only I can bring her back...”

x-x-x-x-x

Shadow had been forced into a deal with the devil.

On her behalf.

The old contract had to stand. To give and receive. Shadows' loyalty was needed in exchange for Laura being returned to a state of life.

And, despite no longer being in love with her, he had apparently been unable to leave her to her fate.

They had spent two days together at Ostaras' home as she prepared to leave. As part of Shadows' new accord, Wednesday had provided her with a sum of money and a new identity and Shadow had saw no reason to ask her any details about either. Her own confession that her love for him had dimmed while he was in prison and that her newly found post-death desire for him had been extinguished by the life returning to her was the final nail in the coffin for their relationship.

Shadow was lost to her forever.

She had no place in his new world.

However, she still apparently had use to Wednesday due to her retained super strength and an increased durability from her revival. He had offered her a job.

And she had accepted.

She was lost to her old world too.

After Shadow had departed with Wednesday, she had remained in Ostaras' home for another five days, sorting through her newly living state and considerable emotional baggage until she had been interrupted by a phone call from Wednesday who had informed her that Ostaras' home had been compromised and, for her own safety, that she should spend the night in a nearby cabin.

The idea of being free for a night was appealing so she had reluctantly agreed but she was irritated to find that Wednesday had failed to mention that she would not be spending the night alone.

Since the revelation of the circumstances of her death, she had made a point of having very little interaction with the redhead but in the occasions they had crossed paths she had been able to sense a aura of regret which the man possessed, given his role in her murder.

She had not felt an ounce of regret from Wednesday.

She had caught Sweeney in the corridor outside of her bedroom in Ostaras' home more than once and on every meeting the redhead had avoided her gaze and disappeared without saying anything.

Even the journey here had been almost silent, neither having any desire to open up a conversation with the other and, as Laura left the car, she heard the other door slam shut behind her.

It was not ideal but it was still preferable to being trapped alone for another night.

x-x-x-x-x

Opening the door of the cabin, Laura was immediately met with the lingering smell of fire and her eyes darted to the open-log fire which appeared to be the only source of heat in the run-down building.

No electricity.

Aside from the fireplace, there was very little else in the room. The kitchen was sparse and the two high-backed fabric chairs which sat before the fire looked dirty but comfortable. There was one hallway and Laura watched as Sweeney disappeared down it to investigate the state of the other rooms.

“Oh for fucks sake!”

Sweeneys' accented voice rang through the cold cabin followed by the faint thumping of items being shifted around.

“It's a fucking mess,” appearing back in the main room with a scowl, Sweeney did not look impressed, “ain't no way i'm sleeping with that filth.”

Grunting in irritation, Laura elected to focus on the fireplace instead.

Picking up some logs and fluid from the small collection of materials to the side of the fireplace, she arranged them in the centre and added some blocks before introducing her lighter to the pile and watching as it slowly spread to life.

Taking one of the available chairs, Laura glanced at the gathering darkness outside as she held her hands out to the fire in an attempt to steal some of the meagre heat. It was good. In her dead state, no amount of fire was able to provide her warmth and she possessed a new found appreciation for the simple feeling.

The clinking of a bottle caught her attention. Turning towards the kitchen area, the sight of Sweeney clutching a large bottle of unmarked alcohol and two semi-clean tumblers was not the most unpleasant thing she could imagine.

Sinking into the other chair, Sweeney pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth before pouring a generous amount into both glasses and thrusting one out to her, the suddenness of the movement causing some of the alcohol to slosh over the side and onto the unclean floor below.

Staring at it, Laura raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not asking for your soul,” Sweeney muttered, “besides,” he continued in an accusatory tone, “that ship's already sailed so you've nothing to fear from accepting a drink from me.”

Accepting the glass with a scowl as she was reminded of her predicament, Laura nodded and took a small sip. The alcohol burned unpleasantly as it travelled down her throat, providing her with an internal warmth that matched the fire.

“Wednesday killed me.”

She had spoken the words without thought but now that they were out there, she was interested to see what the redhead had to say for himself.

Her initial rage had subsided into a general distaste for everything which surrounded her.

Ostara had been helpful.

The spring goddess and all her terrifying power had been gentle enough, despite her distaste with her, to ensure that all this new information, this new world, was explained to her. Gods like her and Wednesday possessed more power than creatures such as Sweeney and others but their power was waning as time passed and humanity found new gods to worship.

She had also warned her that despite the loss of power, the gods would always see humanity as pawns to be manipulated as they see fit.

Laura had been a causality of that.

Huddling his full height into the relatively small chair, Sweeney tightened the jacket across his chest as he took a large gulp of whiskey.

“Yeah, he did.” Sweeney agreed, sipping his own drink before meeting Lauras' gaze with his own. “But so did I.”

“Yeah you fucking did,” Laura nodded, “but you didn't know who I was. You were just following instructions, just like Shadow has been. For him.”

If humanity was a pawn to the gods, she did not imagine that a leprechaun fared much better.

“I ain't apologising.” Sweeney shrugged. “I did what I did and you don't want to fucking hear it. But for what it's worth, I didn't like it or enjoy it for a moment. But him? Wednesday? He has a way of fucking with you and making his goals seem like your goals.”

Silence fell again.

This time, however, it was awkward and oppressive. The weight of it settling on Lauras' shoulders and as she threw back another shot of alcohol, she was disturbed to find that it did not help.

“I'm not evil.”

Turning, Laura fixed him with a sceptical gaze. Her every interaction with the leprechaun had been thrown into a new light with the new information of her murder at his hands.

“I might have killed you but i'm not a creature of evil. It felt wrong to do it.”

As Sweeney continued, Laura was unsure if she was supposed to be reacting to the words as Sweeneys' eyes were focussed on the fire, his face devoid of emotion.

“I could have taken the coin back. When you fucked the truck on its hind-legs and it was torn free from ya. You were an asshole and it would have been too easy but I couldn't. I told you that I could bring you back and it seemed fair to at least try. A life taken, a life given.”

Bringing the tumbler to his lips, he threw back the remaining liquid.

“It would have been fair.”

A small rattle at the window stole Lauras' attention as she watched as a small woodland bird tapped at the glass with its beak before disappearing back into the darkness.

“You really thought Ostara could bring me back?” She already knew the answer but her curiosity was getting the better of her. If she wanted answers about this new world, the leprechaun seemed like a decent source in his current morose state.

“Goddess of Spring and new life. Seemed like a fucking plan at the time.”

“But she couldn't?”

“Can't interfere with the work of another god.” Sweeney confirmed. “If it had been by my will that you was killed then she could overwrite that but she can't undo the will of one as powerful as her.”

Filing that information away for future use, Laura followed with another question.

“So you got your coin back from Shadow?”

“I never lost my damned coin to him. I lost it to you. It chose you as its new host but the dead can't own things so I always knew it would come home to me. It's why we have last will and testaments.”

Seemingly working himself into an irritated state, Sweeneys' hand twitched as he explained.

“Christ, Shadows' not even your husband now you know? 'Til death do you part' and you've more than held up that end of the fucking bargain.”

Unable to help herself, Laura countered him immediately.

“Because of you.”

Sweeneys' eyes met her own and she could see the building anger within them dissipate at the accusation. Instead of a retort, the redhead simply twisted his mouth and faced the fire again.

x-x-x-x-x

Chastised, Sweeney concentrated on the feeling of his coin within the right-hand pocket of his dark trousers.

The low hum of its presence was always on the fringe of his consciousness, allowing him to sense the outcomes of potential decisions and which would be most likely to work in his favour. His severance from the coin, on account of his own foolishness, had struck him more fiercely than he could have anticipated. It was a sixth sense and its removal made him feel almost...human.

But the fate of the dead wife before him had saw his coin returned to him, with not a single mark on it, and as it came to rest in his palm again he felt an absurd well of joy.

The rejoining of a lost limb.

Subconsciously, his hand dug in the pocket and pulled the coin free. The warmth of it seeped into his hand and he flipped it between his skilled fingers as he lost himself to his own musings.

x-x-x-x-x

“Is everything they say about fairies true?” Staring into the fire, Laura did not look up as she questioned him. “Like that you can be killed with lemon and iron and shit?”

Cracking an eyebrow, Sweeney was surprised. Someone had done a little bit of research.

“You're a smart one,” he took a gulp of his drink, “and yeah it used to be. Hundreds of years ago. Lemon was like poison and iron could cut through a fae like a hot knife through butter. But not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Belief. Not enough of them believe in the fae or leprechauns now. So we lost all our weaknesses as they lost their faith in us, but it also came at the price of our power. Not all of it, but enough to be noticeable. And a fucking nightmare.”

“And how long have you been alive?”

“Too long.”

“Can you die?” Cupping her tumbler with her hands, she brought it to her lips as she gave him her full attention. “Not that i'm planning anything.” She added.

“There are ways to die,” Sweeney answered honestly, “but in terms of ways to go out, they're a fucking bitch.” He paused. “No offence.”

Tilting her head, Laura let the insult slide as her pleasure that the awkward air had dissipated overrode her irritation.

“None taken.”

 


End file.
